


Whenever You Need Me

by mosslover



Category: The Mortal Instruments (Movies), Young Hercules
Genre: A New Relationship, Angst, Fluff, Iolaus is crushing, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Modern AU, Sexual Content, goodbyes and returns, iolaus doesn't care, luke is reserved, werewolf life is complicated
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-04-19
Packaged: 2019-03-18 19:30:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13688274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mosslover/pseuds/mosslover
Summary: Just as Iolaus hopes that this budding attraction between him and Luke might finally take off properly, Luke has some unexpected news...And Iolaus decides he can't let things end before they really started.





	1. The first goodbye

**Author's Note:**

> Written for WinterFRE 2018 organized by gathering FiKi.
> 
> Prompt #102: Goodbyes
> 
> My first IoLuke, wheeee. Two more chapters to come after this one, hopefully once I tackle a few more prompts for the FRE and fight off the current germ attack :D  
> Please excuse any mistakes...

Iolaus piled up the empty plates scattered all over the coffee table. The visiting group of werewolves started dispersing towards the door, clapping Hercules on the back and shaking his and Jason’s hands on their way out. Iolaus couldn’t help but feel a jolt of excitement: he’d been on tenterhooks all evening and now the meeting was finally over. He had hopes for the rest of the night.

Instinctively, his eyes sought out the source of those hopes: one of the pack members currently in attendance. Tall, lean, suffused with quiet confidence - he had caught Iolaus' eye the very first time he'd watched Hercules' super-human acquaintances file into their small living room. Those unassuming, kind hazel eyes, the occasional glasses, an emerging beard and the white swath of white curls planted among otherwise mahogany ones above the patrician forehead...

Luke.

Whether by some lucky scheme or divine providence, they had been sitting next to each other during today's 'war council’, as Jason jokingly called the meetings. Luke's close proximity had made it nearly impossible for Iolaus to focus on the defiant banshees in the harbor they were supposed to be discussing. Not that anyone really expected a relevant contribution from Iolaus - but he didn't care either way, as long as he could accidentally bump Luke’s knee once in a while, glance down at Luke’s well-shaped, hair-spattered forearm, or note the occasional jiggle of his knee that hinted at actionable energy hiding inside him.

Iolaus hoped it boded well for the rest of the evening. Luke had given him a guarded smile when he'd first arrived but his eyes had been full of warmth, which had wormed its way right into Iolaus' midsection. It settled there to quietly purr beneath his skin the entire evening.

Iolaus was pretty sure that Luke was aware of this bundle of nervous anticipation sitting next to him - Iolaus' face wasn't exactly hard to read and he could feel Luke's gaze on himself during the meeting, though neither dared touch the other more than fleetingly. No one here knew of this growing attraction between them... And with every innocuous touch, Iolaus' hopes spiraled up a little higher.

Yet now, when he finally spotted Luke in the throng of departing guests, to his immense disappointment he realized that the brunet was already by the door, shrugging into his jacket.

Their eyes met over the back of the couch and the pile of dirty plates in Iolaus’ arms. Instantly, color stole onto Iolaus’ cheekbones. Damn it, the man was entirely too handsome, and it hit Iolaus yet again as he stood and stared, trying to not look like a love-struck idiot and probably failing - not the least because he was neck-deep in feelings he had never anticipated. He coughed and shifted from foot to foot, a precariously perched plate nearly sliding off the top of the column in his arms. At the startled yelp he made as he leaned back to save it, Luke looked up and caught Iolaus' gaze, returning it with an amused smile, curving up towards his subdued eyes. Only the crooked line on that high forehead betrayed Luke's slight discomposure, hinting at suppressed feelings inside.

It was all a little puzzling, to be sure. Iolaus was pretty sure Luke liked him - the recent developments between them gave him plenty of proof of that. Yet Luke remained guarded, and the last time he'd left here he had a look of guilt about him, as if unhappy with himself for having allowed this mutual affection to blossom. Iolaus was certain that if maybe they just talked, if they just found the time and space to confess and discuss what they wanted -

But it seemed that tonight, there won't be any opportunity.

“You’re leaving?” Iolaus asked, trying to keep his voice neutral and the curiosity in it strictly friendly.

"I, uh-" Luke’s eyebrows drew low as he nodded. “I have to. I-“

He cast a glance at the last two of his pack mates who were just saying a loud goodbye to Hercules and thanking him for the food he’d cooked for everyone. Hercules gave them a blasé smile – for an ultra-strong fighter with Olympian origins, no one would have guessed that his secret hobby was reading food blogs, stories included, and then cooking large quantities of each new recipe. Not that Jason and Iolaus complained about the culinary experiments. And neither did the werewolves.

Iolaus waited: when the last two of Luke's mates cleared out, Luke reached for the doorknob and shut the door behind them, then glanced back at Iolaus and his friends. Hercules and Jason thought nothing of the fact that Luke remained; it wasn’t the first time he’d stayed longer than the others. At first, he’d lingered for a quick clarification of their next plan or a friendly chat, but lately, he'd also hung back for extra food, a baseball game broadcast on TV, or a film that one of them had rented.

Lately, well. Once or twice, Iolaus had managed to keep him around for other things as well. Things that included just the two of them and....

He felt the flush darken on his cheeks. They’d grown bolder that one night, with Jason and Hercules gone to bed and the ending movie credits the only source of light in the dark living room. Iolaus had been so filled with the need to act on his emotions - he hadn't been able to tear his gaze off of Luke, he hadn't been able to stop himself from leaning in - The memory of the first kiss made Iolaus’ skin tingle and his stomach grow tight with excitement once more. It had been a long kiss; slow and gentle and curious, the passion in it building gradually. From Luke's side, it was almost - respectful - restrained? \- but it was the most amazing kiss Iolaus had ever experienced with anyone. He's sat on the couch, stunned and goofy-faced, for another twenty minutes after Luke had quietly slipped out; wondering if he had just dreamed it. But then, just last Thursday - they'd kissed again. And this time, Iolaus insisted on getting close, turning the heat under them straight to high setting, straddling Luke in the corner seat and gulping down his harsh exhales as they touched each other for the first time, hands under shirts, on chests, belt buckles, under thin boxers…

Hercules' voice brought Iolaus back to reality and he coughed, chasing the memories away before his body could betray his thoughts. Balancing the plates on both arms, he strode over to the sink to dump them in there so he could deal with them later. 

“You’re heading out already too?” Hercules, leaning against the back of the sofa, was asking the werewolf.

“I wish I could stay,” Luke said with a rueful side-glance covertly aimed at Iolaus. He looked lonely as he stood there, something akin to longing shining through the hazel of his eyes. “But I have to get back home and pack some things for a… a sort of an extended trip.”

Iolaus' mouth parted in shock. But before he could gather his wits, Jason beat him to the question.

“A trip? Are you going somewhere? You didn’t mention that during the meeting.”

Luke hesitated, his hand still on the doorknob. “I shouldn’t really be telling you, but I suppose you’d notice my absence eventually, and…”

“What?” Iolaus blurted out, and Luke’s gaze rested on him again, almost apologetic. Iolaus frowned. “What are you talking about?”

Luke seemed reluctant to get into too much detail. “There’s something the pack needs me to do, so I have to go.”

"Where?" Hercules said.

Luke shook his head, measuring words out carefully. “I can’t tell you. There’s a... situation that needs attention, and I seem to be the best choice to go deal with it, since I'm one of the few unmated members of my pack. It's... delicate, sort of." He glanced at Iolaus again, almost regretful, then at the other two. "I just wanted to let you know, since... I count you as my friends.”

Iolaus tried his best to wrap his mind around the news, but all he registered was his own growing dismay. “How long are you going to be gone?” he couldn't stop himself from asking, not even bothering to hide how unhappy he was about the sudden announcement.

“I don’t know,” Luke admitted. “A few months, possibly.”

“Oh.” Iolaus felt himself deflate, all of his excitement from earlier, the hope that tonight something more might happen between them, that they might talk, come clean about how they felt - it all evaporated like morning dew on hot asphalt. “That’s… I didn’t expect…” he trailed off, dejected.

“I’m sorry. About - the short notice. I shouldn’t be saying anything at all, but I’m leaving tomorrow, and I didn’t want to go without telling you.”

“Tomorrow?” Iolaus croaked, the information like an additional blow to his stomach. He didn’t even care that both his friends could probably read him now as easily as if he were a lone neon sign in a dark alley.

Before Luke could react to the obvious emotion in Iolaus’ voice, Hercules straightened up and walked over to Luke, clapping the werewolf on the back.

“Well, best of luck, Luke. Thanks for letting us know.” Hercules stated. “I hope it goes well, whatever it is. I don’t suppose you’ll be able to keep in touch while you’re away.”

Luke shook his head again.

“You’ll certainly be missed,” Jason joined in, walking forward as well to shake Luke’s hand. “Come tell us how it went when you’re back. You’re always welcome, anytime.”

Luke gave a grim smile as he clasped Jason’s hand. “Thank you.” Then his gaze shot to Iolaus again, almost involuntarily. “I hope I’ll be back sooner rather than later.” It was not quite a promise, and Iolaus could feel the sadness that emanated from the man. He looked more alone than ever - one of the few in his pack without a mate, it was a solitary life he lead, and it was wrought with danger.

Iolaus’ heart had somehow climbed into his throat, and at the same time, he found that his tongue was tied in a knot of Gordian proportions. He wanted to reach out, embrace Luke, say something that would convey all of his hopes and wishes.

But when he found his vocal cords and forced them to work, he found no miraculous infusion of eloquence on his tongue. “Yeah, I hope so too, Luke, take care of yourself-” 

Luke nodded, and then – before Iolaus could scrape enough courage to say anything else – Luke wrested the stubborn front door open. “Well, goodbye. It's been a pleasure. Take care...” The last words were aimed at Iolaus, but Luke’s eyes didn’t quite reach the blond’s blue ones.

And then he walked out onto the sparsely lit corridor, rucked up his collar, and disappeared.

 

Iolaus stared at the closed door’s tired paint, the sound of the lock clicking shut echoing in his chest like the gavel confirming a jury sentence. He opened his mouth, gestured towards the door uselessly –

“You okay, Iolaus?” Jason said. “You look like you’ve swallowed a brick.”

“I-“ Iolaus stammered. “I can’t believe - he’s leaving?”

“Seems so," Hercules said, a thoughtful frown on his forehead. At Iolaus' look of alarm, his face cleared into a reassuring expression, his voice taking on a note of reason. "It’s not forever, Iolaus. He’ll be back in a few months. It does sound like he’s maybe going undercover for something, but listen. Luke’s more than capable. I’m sure he’ll take care of himself.”

Still glued to the spot next to the sink, Iolaus’ eyes widened at his friend’s words. “Undercover?! But that’s probably really dangerous–“

“I’m sure he’ll be fine,” Jason joined Hercules. He exchanged another meaningful glance with the half-Olympian, then gave his shorter friend a shrewd glance. “We couldn’t help but notice that there seems to be something between you two-“

“What?! You did?” Dread came over Iolaus: had either of them seen him and Luke making out on the couch? Pink stained his cheekbones, colorless from surprise, once more.

Hercules inclined his head, a benevolent smile on his face. “Oh, come on, that way you both try not to look at each other all the time? That dopey look you get every time Luke's? You being the last one up when he stays behind? We’re not five years old, ‘Laus.”

Iolaus cursed. “Jesus, I tried not to be so obvious…”

Jason laughed his hearty laugh. “You, not obvious? That’s as likely as seeing a three-legged snake.” He snickered. “Besides, the last time Luke was here, I got up to have a drink of water and heard some really interesting noises from the living room…”

Iolaus’ face flew through the shades between pink and crimson at record speed. “You – you were up?!”

Jason nodded with a grin. “Next time, you could ask me to take the couch, you know, if you and Luke need a room…”

Iolaus covered his face with his palms and groaned. “That’s not - ah crap, we weren't really that far, at least I didn't think so - and besides-" He sighed, defeated. "I don’t even know what Luke wants...“

Hercules regarded him in that unfussed, benevolent way of his of natural authority. “If I had to hazard a guess, he’s just as hopeless about you as you are about him. I mean, the way he smiles at you? The way you stare longingly after him? It’s both adorable and a little sickening. I was even going to suggest that me and Jason take a weekend trip to the mountains so you two can finally sort this thing out. Before Jason or I walk in on something that will require us to bleach our eyes...”

Iolaus took a deep breath, doubt and resignation joining forces. Luke was leaving tomorrow. And what did their relationship amount to anyway? He threw up his arms. “Well, I guess you can hold off on that weekend plan,” he retorted. “If Luke even wants anything more from me than kissing and mutual hand jobs on the couch…”

“Too much information!” Jason exclaimed, shielding himself from unwanted details with hands thrown up in front of his face. “Jesus, Iolaus. We don’t need to know!”

Hercules chuckled, then grew serious once more in the face of Iolaus’ desperation. “Look, he’s a good guy. A werewolf, yes, and that’s not… ideal. But I’m not going to try to talk you out of that because he’s as decent as they come, human or not. If he’s into you – and we have all sorts of proof that he is-” Hercules winked at Jason who rolled his eyes – “then he’s probably just being cautious because of what he is, not because he’s only interested in getting his end away.”

Iolaus screwed up his face. What a mess... But Hercules was right, Luke wasn’t the kind of man who was just after his own selfish pleasure. Luke was different – reliable, considerate, maybe too considerate - 

He shoved his hands in his hair. “Well, then what am I supposed to do? He’s leaving tomorrow!”

“You could wait till he gets back, and sort it out then if you’re still into each other,” Jason suggested.

Hercules nodded slowly as if considering the merit of the option, and then shrugged: “Or, of course, you could go after him right now. It’s still today, after all. You have a few hours to go and talk to him.”

As soon as Hercules said it, Iolaus knew it was the only option. He had to go - talk to Luke, talk to him, show Luke that he wanted him and that it was okay for Luke to need to be with someone even if it was just Iolaus – human, and far from perfect. Sudden jolt of energy filled him, his eyes going wide.

But there was one glitch. “I don’t know where he lives,” Iolaus pointed out with alarm. “I know where his shop is, but that’s-.”

“He lives behind it, dummy,” Jason grinned. “He did say that one time, but you must have been too busy mooning over him at the time to hear anything of consequence…”

“Oh,” Iolaus swallowed, overcoming the urge to slap himself on the forehead for his own stupidity. He straightened up, the energy now nearly boiling inside him as he looked from one friend to the other. “In that case – I guess I need to go.”

“Looks like it,” Hercules agreed.

“Right.” Iolaus shot forward, throwing the door open with nearly Herculean power in his arm. “I'll see you later!”

And he tore off down the corridor as if all the monsters of the underworld were on his heels. Just before he flew down the first flight of stairs, his friends' calls reached him from behind.

"It’s snowing, Iolaus! Take your coat!” - “We’ll save the dishes for you!” - “Don’t forget you have a lecture at 9 tomorrow!”

None of it mattered right now – with only one person on his mind, Iolaus stumbled out onto the snow-covered street and set off running to catch Luke before it was too late.


	2. Interlude, pt. 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iolaus doesn't want to let Luke leave this way... so he takes things in his own hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading the previous chapter!  
> I just love these two... so l tried to do them justice :D

After ten minutes of jogging through the descending snow, Iolaus readjusted his opinion on not having a jacket. He was starting to shiver, his fingers stiffening from the cold and his nose gradually becoming the starting point of an icicle.

There was no thought of turning back, though. He dashed across avenues and darted through late evening pedestrian traffic until he’d left two boroughs behind and found himself in Luke’s area, a quieter and slightly shabbier neighborhood than his own, the streets sparsely lit with murky orange light.

He slowed down, lungs aching from the exercise and the constant onslaught of freezing air. He knew he must look quite the picture: face red from exertion and cold, hair a windswept mess, sweat building up under his clothes despite the biting chill of the winter storm. He wiped his forehead with a fist balled up in the sleeve of his sweatshirt, turned a corner and then another, and Luke’s repair shop materialized in front of him.

He eyed the dark window displays – he did not expect Luke to be there now, but that presented the problem of locating the entrance to Luke’s actual flat. A quick search revealed only one feasible option: a double door made of old scratched wood, standing to the side of the shop in an unassuming alcove. With the nearest streetlamp halfway down the block, the door was barely illuminated by the faint orange glow. Iolaus climbed the single step that lead to it, both cold and nerves now getting the best of him as a wave of shivers ratcheted through him. It made the simple task of hitting the small rectangle doorbell an unexpected challenge, but finally his shaky finger connected with it firmly enough to hear the corresponding sound from inside the flat.

Hands shoved deep in the pockets of his sweatshirt for a semblance of warmth, he waited, at once attempting to suppress the shivers and gather convincing words for an appeal to Luke. Neither effort yielded too much of a result by the time firm footsteps sounded on the others side of the door. The scratch of a lock followed and then the door opened partly. Iolaus held his breath, quivering as a snowflake wandered past his face. In the door's gap, Luke’s gruff face appeared. His expression, which Iolaus knew could seem downright severe in a perfectly neutral mood, now cleared the way for complete shock as the Luke took in the figure on his doorstep.

“Iolaus?” he said, amazement coloring his voice as his eyebrows converged in a confused frown. “What are you doing here?”

Iolaus tried to conjure a smile, but a bout of shivers took him over again and his chattering teeth distorted it into more of a grimace. “I had to – I need to talk to you. Before you leave.”

“Oh.” Luke swallowed, then nodded as if beneath all the shock he wasn’t that surprised after all. “You’re not wearing a coat in this?” he gestured towards the elemental dance behind Iolaus, frowning deeper at the realization.

Iolaus looked back at the street, sweeping the steady stream of falling snow with a distracted gaze before attempting a casual shrug-off. “I sort of forgot my coat when I ran out.”

When he turned to Luke once more, he caught a strange expression in the werewolf’s face: as if for a second Luke’s guards had collapsed and now he was overcome with cautious awe, something tender yet troubled in his eyes.

“You better get inside then,” Luke rasped, his voice like honey and rum. “Before you freeze.”

Iolaus nodded with relief and stepped forward, but then his smile of gratitude suffered an instant breakdown as he brushed past Luke and breathed him in in the tight space of the doorway. It brought back memories of those two hurried night-time trysts; Iolaus’ senses were suddenly full of recollections of Luke’s closeness, of the way he had smelled, of his muffled heavy breathing. He paused and almost reached out to grasp Luke’s upper arm to steady himself, to feel the strength in it again. He stopped himself at the last moment.

At the same time, though, Luke reached up and Iolaus felt the wolf’s fingers skim the wind-tossed curls above his forehead.

“You have snow in your hair.” Luke said quietly. He rescued one trapped snowflake, holding it for Iolaus to see.

The fleeting touch was enough to melt Iolaus on the spot; much faster, at any rate, than the snowflake resting on the pad of Luke’s finger. His heart gave a nearly audible thud and then it seemed to have stopped and Iolaus didn’t dare breathe, or move.

Their eyes met in the muted light of the corridor. Iolaus found himself battling the urge to stand on his toes and kiss Luke; he couldn’t help but glance at Luke’s soft, plush lips.

The motion of his eyes, the realization of what it signified, seemed to bring Luke back to his sense of reserve. He cleared his throat and turned abruptly to close the door, breaking the gaze between them. Iolaus glanced away in in embarrassment, hovering by the entrance until Luke gave him a strained smile and waved an arm in the general direction of his flat in an invitation for Iolaus to step in.

“Let me make you a hot drink to warm you up.” Luke led Iolaus into a room on the right – a small, square kitchen with a checkered tile floor. He looked back as if to make sure Iolaus followed, and then added with a nod towards his attire: “And maybe you should get out of the sweatshirt, it will get wet once the snow melts.” 

Iolaus looked down at himself, stopping on the threshold to the room. There were indeed snowflakes caught on his sweatshirt, like fish in a net. He looked back up again, all the things he'd come to say still hopelessly jumbled inside his head and chest. But he knew now was not the time to start.

His eyes didn’t leave Luke’s back as he watched the man walk over to a cupboard and pull out a coffee tin from one of the higher shelves. A tiny triangle of skin was revealed as Luke's shirt rode up, and Iolaus' mouth went dry, his thoughts tangling themselves further.

“I’m afraid this is all I have,” Luke said, brandishing the scratched can. “My fridge is pretty barren since I won't be here for a while...”

“Coffee’s fine,” Iolaus managed, though Luke’s reference to his departure went through him like a knife. Standing in the door, he suddenly didn’t know what to do with himself, so he took up Luke’s advice and opened the zipper of his sweatshirt, slipping it off his shoulders and folding it over his arm. The fabric was cold and wet in spots, just like Luke had suspected it would.

“When is your flight?” Iolaus asked, trying to focus on practical matters as he watched Luke pour water into the coffee machine and then measure out four large spoonfuls of ground coffee from the container.

“Nine-twenty.” Luke’s motions were economic and purposeful, but Iolaus noted that he looked stiff in the shoulders, as if trying to contain himself with force.

“I see.” Iolaus glanced surreptitiously past Luke at the clock above the stove. It was now exactly twelve hours till then. “I’m probably keeping you from packing, aren’t I?”

Luke pushed a button and the old machine hissed as it assumed its task. “It’s fine. I’ve already gathered some stuff.” He reached up and pulled two mugs from the shelf. “Milk and sugar?” he asked with barely more than a fleeting glance at his visitor.

“Yeah... please.” Not sure he could bear the tension of not speaking about what he wanted much longer, Iolaus distracted himself by bending over and shaking his head like a wet dog, in order to get rid of whatever melting snowflakes were still caught in his hair.

When he straightened back up again, Luke was staring at him, sugar bowl in hand, lips parted and conflict written all over his face. He smoothed the troubled lines as soon as their eyes met, returning back to his task of tossing generous spoonfuls of sugar into both mugs.

Iolaus peeled himself off the door frame and walked a few steps in, tossing his sweatshirt over the nearest chair. The zipper made a dull clanking sound against the wooden backrest. “Luke, I’ve-“ he started.

Luke shoved the sugar back up onto the shelf with a little more force than necessary, the noise interrupting Iolaus’ hesitant beginning. A few white crystals escaped and sprayed across the counter. Luke swore, slamming the cabinet door closed.

The display of temper was uncharacteristic for him and an ache blossomed in Iolaus’ heart at witnessing it. Suddenly, he felt selfish for coming here, for maybe making this departure harder for Luke than it already was. Maybe he was acting rashly - again; without considering the whole picture, without even pausing to figure out how his actions might affect others… He clamped his mouth shut and gulped, guilt spearing him through.

Luke, meanwhile, chose to continue with the task at hand: he took two long steps to the fridge without looking at Iolaus, fishing out a nearly empty container of milk. He poured a little bit of it in each cup with haste; when he was done, he left the container sitting open on the counter, his shoulders sagging.

Iolaus made himself speak, feeling worse than ever.

“Luke, I'm - if I’m in your way, I’ll go. I just –“ He wavered in the middle of the room, a cracked tile shifting under his foot. Taking a deep breath, he made himself continue without really having a plan as to what to say: his only aim now was not to make the night even more tough for Luke. “I’m sorry I've barged in like that, I just wanted to talk to you, but maybe it wasn’t a good idea. I, um…” He paused, dismay and disappointment tearing through him. _Iolaus, you thoughtless idiot_ , he chided himself, then sighed in defeat. “I’ll let myself out.“

He motioned towards the door.

Luke seemed to have stopped moving altogether, his spine more rigid than ever. The air in the kitchen was stiff with tension as the moment stretched.

Then, as Iolaus’ heart kept on dropping to somewhere around his stomach, Luke whirled around.

“No.” The brown-yellow eyes looked tortured under his hunched eyebrows. He stayed pressed the counter, clutching the edge firmly with his fingers.  “Iolaus, don't go - not just yet.”

Hearing his name from Luke’s lips had always made all of Iolaus’ nerves vibrate like a harp’s strings, and this time the effect seemed even more magnified. He had hoped his name would sound differently from Luke’s mouth tonight; not so… resigned, and devastatingly sad. He waited, hoping against hope that there was a way to turn this around.

“You have every right to come here and demand we talk, I know that,” Luke said on a deep breath. “I should have at least found the time to speak to you alone, after- after the last few times we...”

He trailed off, not quite looking embarrassed but still avoiding a direct allusion to their secret moments on the couch. “But I can’t promise you more. I can’t promise you anything right now.”

“Because you are leaving on a mission?” Iolaus implored.

Luke nodded, glancing away. “And because… because of what might happen while I’m there.” He paused. “When – if I should return-“

“IF?” Iolaus raised his voice. “Are you saying-“

He took a step forward, the harp's strings resonating with deep tones of fear for Luke’s safety.

Luke shrugged as if he spoke of something mundane that didn’t concern his life and well-being. “I’m just saying, there will be dangers involved, and if it should come to the worst-”

Wide-eyed, Iolaus jumped in again, taking a few more steps forward before halting. “No, don’t say that! You will come back, in a few months, you said so yourself!”

“I intend to, but there are no guarantees, Iolaus! And I don’t want to start something I might not have a chance to continue.” The guarded expression had settled back the dark features of his face and Luke looked adamant now. “The things that happened-“

“You wish you could take them back?” Iolaus surprised himself by saying, a bit of hurt seeping into his voice. He understood what Luke was on about but god, he didn’t want what they had done to account for nothing.

Luke held his gaze this time, knuckles going nearly white on the counter edge as he seemed to struggle with himself. “No.” Quiet but fierce conviction took over his voice, though he remained a little reluctant. “I’ll not degrade you by saying that I hadn’t wanted those moments to happen, that’d be unfair… and not true. But maybe I still shouldn’t have let them go on, knowing what I am, and knowing that I’d be leaving.”

Iolaus bit his lip, hopes rising and falling with Luke’s every word like lines on a mad ECG. But now his fraying determination was fortified by Luke’s admission and his staunch refusal to throw away the touches they’ve shared. Iolaus looked down at his hands, grimacing as he fidgeted with the leather string and beads that were bound around his right wrist. He felt a knot in his stomach as he frantically searched for the the best way to go about pressing his case.

“But maybe you leaving," he said, "and the risks you’ll be taking – maybe that’s all the more reason to use what little time there is? Make something of it-“

He ventured another look at the man he wanted so much. Luke was contemplating him, his bottom lip trapped between his teeth, lines on his forehead the markers of troubled thoughts.

“I’m not sure that’s advisable.” Luke swept a few sugar crystals from the dark hair on his forearm and gripped the counter again as if it was an anchor. “The last thing I want to do is to come in your life with promises and then leave – to be another person that walks in and then disappears. Given what I am, and given your history…”

Iolaus had expected some variety of this – but the last part made him blink at Luke like a deer in the road. “My history?!”

Luke glanced away. “Hercules told me you were in the foster system in your teens,” he confessed hesitantly, yet seemed determined to make his point. “From house to house every few months, always packing your suitcase, no stability, caretakers coming and going…” He sighed. “I don’t want to be another fleeting relationship in your life, promising you something I might not be able to deliver.”

“And that’s your reason?” Iolaus’ surprise turned into complete astonishment. “So what if I was a foster kid? It sucked, but this has nothing to do with it!” He shook his head, then leveled the werewolf with a look as sincere as he could summon. “For your information, you are one of the most reliable people I’ve ever met. But I don’t expect you to adopt me. I just want…” He sniffed, the cold from outside making his nose threaten to run. “I just want a chance to be with you.” He swiped at his nose with the back of his hand, feeling ironically like a small kid for the gesture. He went on: "I don’t care that you’re a werewolf. And even if we have just one night before you leave, then I’ll take that rather than have nothing at all. When you get back, we can just pick up where we left off, and...”

Luke wavered. “Maybe, but… we shouldn't start like this, you shouldn’t have to wait for me, not knowing-“

“Luke.” Iolaus cut through the next self-sacrificing thing Luke was likely about to say. He had had enough: he took a few steps forward, his heart flying from down around his stomach to beat, agitated, in his throat. He had to talk Luke out of this dejection, show him that Iolaus knew what he was getting into and that it was worth every moment of uncertainty.

“I get why you are doing this.” he said. “You're trying to shield me from the consequences of the dangers YOU will be putting YOURSELF into. You think you are not good for me because you are a werewolf. But… whatever this is that you’re doing, it’s not working, and you know why?“

Luke’s eyebrows nearly knotted themselves together. The tension emanating from him was nearly palpable, but Iolaus kept the course boldly.

“It's because you're making it even easier for me to see that you are the most wonderful person I’ve ever met and I don’t care WHAT you are. You risk your life for the good of others, you go and save people on a regular basis, you care so much about your city and the people in it...” He huffed. “You're worth all the waiting in the world to me. And honestly, I don’t even understand sometimes why you would look twice at someone like me...”

Luke’s eyes grew outraged at that, displeased with the ending clause of Iolaus’ speech. Sensing an interjection, Iolaus quickly picked up the thread, drawing closer to Luke yet. He itched to touch him but he wasn’t sure Luke would allow it.

“You worry about others, but I… I want to worry about you. I know I'm not much compared to you, but... I want to be with you and take care of you. Make you laugh, at me, if that's what it takes. I want to hold you-” He stopped. He was saying this all wrong, but maybe, just maybe Luke would feel the fire behind those words, the ache Iolaus was filled with unbearably, an ache he’d never felt for someone else.

Luke stood salt-pillar still, as if stunned. Iolaus' heart hammered against his ribs, and he was afraid that he'd gone too far, said too much. It would be like him to completely botch it by letting his mouth run. Reason told him to shut up and say nothing more, but his heart urged him to make one more plea.

“Look, I know I’m naïve and rash and a million other unsuitable things, but I do realize that things are complicated right now for you, okay? But I think that in all this, you can and should hold on to something you want. If you want this, that is. If you want… me.”

Hazel eyes bore into his, and they seemed more conflicted than before, almost despairing. Yet something new burned in them too: a small, flickering flame that made the coiled nerves in Iolaus’ midsection tingle and his mouth go dry.

“I _want_ you, Iolaus,” Luke replied with emphasis, his voice carrying amazement at this even being a question. “You know I do. I just can’t unsee all the things that stand in the way…”

“Then let me help you unsee them. Forget them for a moment.” He couldn’t wait anymore; he walked all the way to Luke, barely noticing the steam that was now rising from the percolator behind Luke’s back. Luke was motionless, like a statue attached to the counter, and Iolaus came as close as he possibly could, as close as he dared. His palms itched to lay themselves on Luke’s chest but he commanded them to wait in a rare bout of self-control.

“Luke, please, just shut away everything that’s out there. For one night… You want me and I’m here and I will be here whenever you want me to be, whenever you need me…”

He could swear he could hear Luke’s heart thud in his chest, feel the iron resolve that commanded Luke not to follow through with anything that might bring Iolaus suffering. But then he looked in Luke’s eyes, and there was hunger and longing, hidden right beneath the veneer of strength and self-containment.

“Iolaus…” Luke breathed. He brought one hand up as if in protest, but Iolaus caught it and wrapped his fingers around it. The touch caught Luke off guard; Iolaus took the small opening and moved in all the way.

“I’m here,” he said. “Please… please don’t send me away.”

They stared at each other, Luke’s chest rising in a silent but agitated rhythm, his palm warm and dry in Iolaus’ grasp. In a gesture that took them both by surprise, Iolaus brought the captive hand up to his mouth and kissed Luke’s knuckles, eyes falling shut when he felt the thin, smooth skin beneath his lips. He lingered there, unable to tear himself away now that he was in physical contact with Luke again.

“Luke,” he whispered over the hand. “You deserve this. Give us a chance.”

When he looked up again, Luke seemed completely undone. His lips had parted slightly as Iolaus’ mouth grazed his skin and he looked transfixed. His next inhale went in with an audible hitch.

Iolaus took one last chance and went all in.

 

They’d kissed before. In the dark living room of Iolaus’ shared flat, they’d given in to the unspoken inclination towards each other, the second time around unable to keep their hands from exploring one another’s bodies and chasing pleasure to its tantalizing heights.

But this kiss; it seared a path through Iolaus, going deeper and taking him higher than any kiss ever had before. Fifteen minutes ago, he had been freezing from his snowy jog; now he felt as if a hot spring was about to erupt out of him, bubbles rising up and gathering, trying to find a way out and threatening to blow him apart if he didn’t let them.

He put everything into the kiss: the way Luke made him feel, the way he wanted _Luke_ to feel when they were together. His impatience and his desire, his willingness to wait for more. Kisses couldn’t speak, but if they could, this one would have a long monologue and at the end of it, Luke would be completely convinced of the merits, no, of the necessity of them being together here and now.

Luke’s mouth was soft yet firm, and gentle. He tasted of coffee and winter breeze and Iolaus didn’t dare end the kiss for a while, in case it had not managed to convey everything he needed to. Except for his rapid breath and his free hand laid gingerly on Iolaus’ hipbone, Luke had stayed motionless throughout, his eyes closed and his exhales teasing Iolaus’ cheek.

But then Luke’s grip on him tightened and the slightest involuntary sound escaped him. It carried the smallest hint of need, of surrender; at least that’s how Iolaus chose to read it. He took a step back, his own breathing and pulse in chaos as kept a hold on Luke’s hand.

They stared at each other, breathing hard.

“Which way?” Iolaus said before Luke could speak, before he could smother the smoldering embers of desire that manifested in his eyes.

Luke’s eyes narrowed, a milder version of his frown reappearing.

Iolaus thought about using more words to answer, but in the end, he just held Luke’s gaze long enough for the air around them to start crackling with the unspoken meaning. Luke swallowed on a dry click and both naked want and the urge to protect Iolaus warred in his features.

“Is that-“ Luke started, but Iolaus didn’t wait for how that sentence might end.

“Please. I'm here.” He tightened his grip on Luke’s hand and took a few steps back, tugging the werewolf along with him and away from the counter to which he had been attached for so long.

And amazingly, Luke followed.

Behind them, the coffee machine beeped three times, but neither of them took note of the noise, which sounded rather forlorn in the suddenly empty kitchen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!   
> There are 2 or 3 more chapters to go :)  
> I always love to hear what you think!


	3. Interlude, pt. 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: unabashed fluffy smut ahead. Or smutty fluff? Who knows?  
> I haven't written smut for some time, I hope I'm not out of practice...

In the dim hallway Luke paused, then lead the way towards a lit door at its end. Iolaus’ heart climbed into his mouth as he walked behind the wolf in the narrow space. He refused to let go of Luke’s hand, afraid with the loss of contact he would risk losing the tentative victory he had won as well.

Once they were over the threshold, on the thin grey carpet that stretched from wall to wall, Iolaus stopped and scanned the room’s sparse furniture. He was not interested in its appearance, though; this was where Luke lived, slept, dreamed – and now Iolaus was here. Just standing here felt like a great show of trust on Luke's part - he was, Iolaus had realized quite early on, a very private person.

“Sorry it’s in a bit of a state,” Luke said, his voice gruff. He slipped his hand from Iolaus’ and went to the metal bedside table, turning on a small cloth-shaded lamp.

Iolaus watched him, nervous heartbeat jumping in his chest as his eyes skittered towards the middle of the room where Luke’s bed stood. A red knitted scarf and a dark blue sweater were thrown over its metal railing, and that was just the beginning of the chaos: the bed’s dark blue covers were strewn with entire piles of clothing. A column of folded shirts here, a vest there, t-shirts and jeans in between; Iolaus recognized some of the articles he’d seen Luke wear to the meetings and it reminded him again how much time he'd spent secretly pining after Luke and staring at him while he should have been listening to Hercules' plans. 

Several pairs of heavy boots stood at the foot of the bed, waiting to be added to the packing party above them. Iolaus frowned at the gathered garments but not because it displeased his sense of aesthetics: it was a confirmation of Luke’s inevitable departure and the urgency of his own mission.

Still standing by the door, Iolaus reached for the white plastic switch and killed the ceiling light. The room plunged into semi-darkness and Luke turned back to face him, his expression serious and solemn.

Iolaus held his gaze, maintaining a bold and determined exterior despite a wreck of nerves and anticipation happening on the inside. But he was not backing down. They had one night. It was better than nothing, and Iolaus was not going to stop now when he'd gotten this far.

With his heart drumming in his throat, he reached down to the hem of his shirt and in one swift motion, pulled it up over his head and off.

Luke’s gaze darkened, his lips parting as he stared at Iolaus. The shirt landed on a pair of Luke’s boots but neither of them paid any attention to its ungraceful flight; Luke’s eyes, in fact, never even strayed from Iolaus’ face. Yet as seconds ticked by in silence, the younger man could now read desire almost palpably in the wolf’s expression; only a very thin layer of self-restrained now remained.

Luke’s hands twitched, as if he wished to reach out and pull Iolaus to him. Instead, he clamped his fingers into fists, then unfolded them slowly, battling to get a hold on himself.

“Is this what you really want?,” he said, and that smokey quality was back in his voice, going straight to Iolaus' midsection like a well aimed dart.

“What I really want?” Iolaus started forward with all the coyness and confidence he could summon. His mouth went dry when Luke extended a hand to him, but Luke’s fingers didn’t land on the naked skin that was on offer; he grasped the belt loop of Iolaus’ jeans instead, tucking a thumb through it. A swell of relief rushed through Iolaus at the small proprietary gesture. He stopped right before their chests could come into contact and snuck a hand down to the back pocket of his jeans, brushing Luke’s furry arm along the way and trying his best to ignore the electric sparks the touch sent up his nerve lines. He fished out a handful of small items from the pocket, which he had slipped in before the night’s meeting.

He scooped up the four little things and tossed them on the side table next to Luke’s thigh. When he glanced up again and met Luke’s gaze, he knew the wolf had taken note of what those items were.

“I put those in before you came over tonight, just in case,” Iolaus confessed, flushing but determined to make his point. “Because what I really want – the only thing I want - is you.”

Luke’s other hand came up to Iolaus’ side, settling, tentatively, right over the line of his waist. Iolaus had to force himself to breathe steadily at the touch and the desire to kiss Luke became almost deafening in his ears, but instead, he took hold of Luke’s shirt and steered the man backwards to his own bed. Luke let him, almost in a daze when Iolaus sent him onto the clothes-strewn sheets with a gentle yet decisive shove. Luke landed on his elbows amidst the ironed and folded columns, staring up with a partly opened mouth as Iolaus climbed up over him on all fours.

“We’re really doing this then,” Luke said and Iolaus nodded, leaning down to kiss the expectant lips.

Before he could do so, Luke put a finger on Iolaus’ lips.

“I don’t want you to think I’m taking this lightly,” he said, hazel eyes burning with sincere intensity under the furrowed arches of his eyebrows.

Iolaus wrapped a hand around the silencing finger, a quick laugh escaping his mouth as he pulled the digit away. “Luke,” he said, “I might not be the smartest in the bunch, as Jason likes to say, but if there’s one take away from everything you’ve said tonight, it’s that you’re not taking this lightly.”

Luke flashed a small, guilt-laced smile. “I guess so.” He gulped as Iolaus bent lower, their faces inches apart. He reached out with his free hand and ran it over Iolaus’ free-falling curls. “Jason can shove it,” he whispered. “You’re smart and fearless and I can’t believe that you really want this-”

Iolaus closed his eyes for a second, the palm that Luke pressed to the side of his face doing a good job of dismantling his composure.

“You better start believing,” he breathed, before finally kissing Luke again.

***

Fifteen minutes later, the meticulously folded clothing was strewn across the floor in haphazard mounds, with a few additions on top: Luke’s shirt and black jeans first, then Iolaus’ pale ones. Another pair of boots had also clattered to the floor, landing softly on the cushioned floor.

Taking charge helped mask the little tremor in Iolaus’ hands and the storm of nervousness in his stomach. What if Luke backed out once more? What if something didn’t go right? Iolaus didn’t have that much experience, and he didn’t want to mess something up.

He kissed down Luke’s chest, nose buried in the springy hair that covered it. He breathed in next to Luke’s skin, and the mix of musk and spice and a touch of something wild that he received with every inhale was both distracting and intoxicating. He nipped at the outline of Luke’s abs, dipped his tongue in Luke’s navel -

Luke’s breathing grew heavy and Iolaus paused when he reached the waistband of his underwear. The narrowing path of hair on his lower belly that lead to it drove his pulse higher. He let his fingers wander along the tight band, slide through the hair, then lower.

Luke stilled and his stomach tightened, a forced exhale flying out of him. Iolaus closed his eyes, overwhelmed for a moment by the intimacy of it; he kissed Luke’s skin back up to his chest and then to his mouth. Luke grasped his waist, sighing into the hungry kiss as Iolaus kept on touching him through the grey straining fabric, now moist in places.

“How do you – what exactly is it you want?” Luke panted.

Blood rushed into Iolaus’ face. “I want you,” he whispered, making himself look into Luke’s eyes, “inside me.”

Luke held his gaze and nodded, biting his lip. Then with a strength he hadn’t used before, he shifted Iolaus until their hips were aligned. Iolaus moaned at the contact and Luke smiled at the reaction, reaching up to wrap his arms around Iolaus’ back. And before Iolaus knew it, he was flipped onto his back, breathless from the sudden change in position. A random button from a forgotten shirt pressed itself against his shoulder blade but all Iolaus could really take in was Luke above him, his hazel eyes alight.

“Let me see you, Iolaus,” he said. “Is that alright?”

Iolaus swallowed and nodded, nerves dancing in his midsection and for a moment, he was completely disarmed. “Yes.”

Luke sat back on his heels, hands straying up and down Iolaus’ thighs lightly as they stared at each other. Then Luke reached for the blue briefs Iolaus had put on that morning and he slid them off with Iolaus’ help.

Iolaus couldn’t help it; he closed his eyes, unable to move, to breathe, to do anything. For all the earlier boldness and bravado, he was overcome to be in Luke’s presence like this.

Neither of them moved until Luke spoke again, a barely-there hand coming to rest on Iolaus’ shin. “Iolaus, look at me.”

When Iolaus did, Luke’s gaze was full of something Iolaus had not seen there before. Want, desire, yes; but also, tenderness and regard. Iolaus swallowed: Luke was breathtaking in the orange-tinted glow of the lamp. He was dark and gorgeous and most of all, considerate and kind.

Iolaus held Luke’s gaze, feeling as if Luke could see straight in his soul. He was still a bit afraid Luke might find him insufficient in more than one way and uncertainty crawled through him as he lay there, his body on display, his desire evident, his chest rising and dipping fast.

But there was nothing but adoration in Luke’s eyes. “You have no idea how gorgeous you are,” Luke whispered, moving back up until his face was above Iolaus’. “Can I touch you? I want to make this good for you.”

Iolaus nodded. Luke kissed him on the mouth, slow and deep now as if determined to make it last. Then his hands started caressing and exploring and Iolaus couldn’t hide the trembling that took him over. Luke didn’t comment on it, but his hands soothed and enticed and Iolaus slowly became convinced it was actually his own heart that was shaking, his bodily shivers just a mere symptom of a deeper aching need manifesting through his muscles. He kissed Luke back, refusing to let his mouth go as Luke caressed him lower and lower and Iolaus let his own hands run free down Luke’s back.

Minutes later, Luke finally retrieved one of the small packets and slick fingers found their way between Iolaus’ buttocks, and Iolaus suddenly became completely still.

Luke kissed and licked down Iolaus’ throat. His fingers circled and flicked, teasing and making Iolaus moan. Iolaus felt as if a live wire had suddenly been turned on inside him, setting everything aglow. When an index finger finally breached his body, he tossed his head to the side and bit into his bicep to stifle a loud groan.

Luke bit at Iolaus’ throat gently, then licked over it, his breath hot on Iolaus’ skin. He hummed quietly, letting Iolaus adjust to the sensation, before asking for permission to add more.

Iolaus gave it. His chest seemed full of liquid heat, his breaths short and raspy as one finger became two and two became three.

He moved with and against the intrusion, aware of Luke’s own harsh breaths against him, of his lover’s own considerable state of arousal. The thought of Luke making love to him became the only thing he could focus on and suddenly it was unbearable to wait any longer.

“I want you,” he whispered. “Luke.”

Luke lifted his head, his eyes full of the same liquid flame that consumed Iolaus.

“I’m ready and I'm sure,” Iolaus insisted, reading the questions that were forming on Luke’s lips before they could be spoken. Luke held his gaze as if to make sure and then felt on the bedside table again, retrieving a condom. Iolaus made to help him with the task, but Luke shook his head.

“If you touch me, it might well be over,” he smiled wryly. His hands shook just the tiniest bit as he opened the packet, and a rush of affection swept through Iolaus at the sight. He waited for Luke to finish and then tugged him back down, kissing him hard once more to stop himself from saying something sappy and embarrassing. Hands in the soft hair at the nape of Luke’s neck, he waited for Luke to align them, his body thrumming with need.

Luke broke the kiss, pulling back as he braced himself on one elbow and reached down between them with the other hand. He pressed his forehead to Iolaus’. “Tell me if anything doesn’t feel good,” he murmured, his hazel eyes blurry from this close and his beard scratching the skin of Iolaus’ cheek in the most distractingly delicious way.

Iolaus jerked his head in a minute nod, biting into his lip as he waited for that first contact, the push, the long slide in.

When it came, it was more intense than he remembered. It had been, admittedly, almost a year since his first – and last - hurried attempts at bottoming, and the burn flared through him like a firework, not unexpected and not unwelcome either. He drew in a sharp breath and Luke murmured a quiet word of reassurance, pressing in slowly.

The deep, smooth voice faltered as Luke bottomed out, holding perfectly still for the moment. “I’m not hurting you?”

You never would, Iolaus thought. The stretch was intense, but so very good, too. “No,” he exhaled, holding perfectly still. “Nothing hurts.”

He dug his nails into Luke’s back and held on as Luke began to move. He quickly gave up trying to keep control over himself, it was impossible when he felt so much: the amazing pressure and traces of the receding burn, Luke’s body above his, Luke’s exhales, his wayward lips and barely held-back moans. The wolf was considerate and gentle, and so good at restraining himself, but Iolaus could tell he was barely able to now. Luke’s breathing was labored as he tried to maintain a slower pace, making sure nothing was too much as they fell into a shallow rhythm. Iolaus stuck a hand in Luke’s hair and ran his fingers through the brown curls and along Luke’s scalp. The man shuddered and blew out a long blissful moan.

“Iolaus-“

Iolaus didn’t stop, repeating the caress over and over. Luke clamped his eyes shut and ground a little deeper, and it was Iolaus’ turn to make a noise that was not suited for polite company.

Luke’s eyes popped open. He didn’t change the rhythm, though. “You alright?”

“Yes.” The intensity and the pleasure that followed right on its heels increased with every thrust. “I’m fine. Don’t hold back.”

Luke didn’t.

Iolaus’s moans turned to shouts as Luke tucked an elbow under Iolaus’ knee and pushed his leg higher, angling the next thrust upward. He pressed on, and when he hit that spot deep inside, Iolaus’ shouts turned into an endless litany of YES.

“Touch yourself, Iolaus,” Luke blurted. “Come for me.”

Iolaus barely had to do anything; his body was already strung so high it took only several motions of his fist before everything in him tightened almost painfully. He knew Luke felt it; he stared down at Iolaus in awe and dogged determination, not breaking rhythm.

“Come on, beautiful,” he urged. The words went through Iolaus like a flood of sparks and he threw his head back as he came. His whole body pulsed with it, as hot as if he had a fever.

Luke slowed down but Iolaus grasped his arm and gave a frantic shake of his head against the pillow. “No, don’t stop, come inside me,” he insisted in a near-panic and Luke growled and burst into motion, slamming into him. A few thrusts later he came with a dragged-out shout, his body shaking as he went in as deep as he could. Iolaus held on to him, relishing every sound and point of contact between them.

Iolaus noticed they were damp with his sweat.

Then Luke stirred, his voice gruff. “I need to – the condom -“

As if a trance had been broken, Iolaus nodded and slackened his hold, letting Luke slide off him and off the bed. As he heard Luke walk out of the bedroom, he closed his eyes, suddenly close to tears; it had been a rollercoaster of a night and now it was over. He pressed his hands over his face, his body fighting to catch up on oxygen.

He somehow missed Luke returning, but then there were arms around him and Luke’s firm, hair-covered body pressed to his.

“Iolaus,” Luke said, a frown in his voice. “Are you alright?”

Iolaus nodded.

“This wasn’t – the first time you’ve ever… bottomed, right?” Luke asked and the question was surprising enough to make Iolaus remove his hands and look at him.

“No,” he said vehemently. “Did it – did it seem that way?!”

Luke shook his head, shrugging at the same time as he slid an arm up Iolaus’ chest and caressed his jaw with a fingertip. “No, that’s not what I mean. I just – I wouldn’t want you to feel like you had to do that. For me.” He paused, brushing away a sweaty lock that stuck to Iolaus’ cheek. “But if it had been the first time – I think I would have wanted to know.”

“I would have told you,” Iolaus insisted. “It’s been a while, but I’ve done this before. I was just – nervous, maybe.”

Luke smiled with a self-deprecating smile. “Well, so was I.”

It was very much like Luke to not only feel that way but to also confess it: Iolaus turned to his side to stare at him, distracted from his earlier emotional state.

“You worry too much,” he said, then shrugged sideways. “But that’s one of the things I love about you.”

Luke had already started to protest the allegation – thought probably just outwardly - but the second part of Iolaus’ words stopped him right in his tracks. It stopped Iolaus as well, and when Luke’s wide-eyed gaze met his, he flushed. “I just mean, you’re always concerned for everyone’s well-being, and I think really highly of …”

It was futile to backtrack. Luke’s eyebrows twisted into arched lines of affection. “Iolaus…” He put a hand on Iolaus’ side, gentle and warm, before shifting forward to kiss him on the lips.

“Anything else you love about me?” he asked, playful flames dancing in his irises now. But beneath it, he was touched and glad, Iolaus could tell.

For some reason, he still thought it was a good idea to redeem himself by being ridiculous.

“Your cock?” he said.

Luke barked a laugh but the attempt at joke didn’t quite turn the moment lewd. “You know what I love about you?” he asked. Iolaus started to reply ‘my ass?’ but Luke put a hand over his lips once more and this time, Iolaus didn’t remove it.

“Everything,” Luke said. “But especially your courage, and your earnestness, and well, I won’t lie. Your ass is nice too.”

Iolaus couldn’t help it; he beamed like the sun leaping from behind a dense cloud, and then he rolled Luke over onto his back, laughing before he kissed him again.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!  
> Let me know what you think? <3


End file.
